A Momentary Marriage(48)

He knew deep down he couldn’t fix things between his parents. Nothing could, for Mama was all sunshine and laughter and storms, and Papa was all stone, as his mother said.

He didn’t know what they had fought about other than it had something to do with Captain Randall, whom James disliked because of the way he smiled and jovially patted James on the shoulder, as if he was a friend.

Laurence looked up and saw James, with that wry twist of the mouth James so often saw on him, and said, “Don’t be a fool like me, boy. Don’t let a woman tear you up inside.”

But even being there was better than the other place he went to, where the darkness lurked across the nursery in the room where Mama wept and the doctor came and Nurse shooed James away. And Papa was not like Papa at all, but broken.

James was glad to hear her voice. Sharp and angry, it pulled at him, tugging him away from the darkness. Other voices rose against hers. Laura needed help. He must stop this nonsense and be himself.

James opened his eyes. The room was dim, the only light the lamp on the dresser. Laura stood in the doorway beside Dem, both of them taut as they faced the people in the hall. There the lights were brighter, illuminating his sister and her husband.

“It’s very late,” Laura said. “James is sleeping.”

“What difference does it make?” That was Patricia; he’d heard that whine for nigh on thirty years. “He’s always asleep.”

“Yes. He’s ill.”

“But what’s wrong with him? Nobody knows. Mother says it’s something in his brain, but James never told us anything. Now you’re always here, not letting anybody see him.”

There was a moment of tense silence, then Laura said, “Very well. For just a few minutes.” James closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to talk to his sister, but Laura said sharply, “Just you, Patricia.”

James opened his eyes again, alert. Dem was growling, the hair on his ruff standing up, and Laura had crossed her arms.

“But Archie wants to see him,” Patricia protested. “To say good-bye.” Good-bye? No doubt that would be a conversation Archie would relish.

“Be that as it may, James doesn’t want to see him.”

“How would you know what James wants? He’s my brother.”

“I know him a great deal better than you if you think he wants to see the man he threw out of the house a fortnight ago,” Laura shot back.

“How dare you?” Patricia’s voice rose to a piercing shriek that was all too familiar. “How dare you sweep in here and tell us all what to do? I don’t know how you tricked James into marrying you, but—”

“Tricked James?” Laura gave a humorless chuckle. “Do you honestly think anyone could trick James into anything? I dare to keep you from him because I am his wife. I am the mistress of this household. I will do whatever it takes to make sure James has peace and quiet. If you don’t like it, you are, of course, welcome to leave Grace Hill.”

Well done, Laura. James smiled to himself.

“This is all damned havey-cavey, if you ask me.” That was Archie, in a tone that made James want to growl like Dem.

Laura, however, remained cool as ice. “No doubt you are more familiar with havey-cavey doings than I, Mr. Salstone. But whatever you think, you are not seeing James. I will not have you bothering him.”

“Now, see here,” Archie began. Beside Laura, Dem’s growl deepened, and he bared his teeth. Salstone stopped abruptly.

James rolled up on his elbow and shoved aside the covers. He swung out of bed, reaching one hand to the bedpost and hoping he didn’t crumple ignominiously to the floor. Then another voice joined the others in the corridor.

“Salstone.” It was Claude. James relaxed. Whatever else Claude was—murderer came to mind—he disliked Archie Salstone as much as James did. “Don’t be an ass, Archie. You’ve had too much port this evening.”

Now Salstone stepped away, out of James’s sight. He heard Claude saying cheerfully as they moved away, “I’d stay clear of that dog if I were you. I saw the leg of someone Dem went after. Not a pretty sight.”

Laura turned to Patricia. The color in Laura’s cheeks was high, but her voice remained calm. “Would you like to see James?”

Patricia let out a short wordless noise of frustration and stalked away. Laura and Dem stood in the doorway for a moment, still alert.

“How fierce you are,” James said. “I scarcely need Dem.”

“James!” Laura swung back around, her face alight. She rushed over to where he stood by the bed, reaching out to slip her arm around his waist. It felt familiar and right, and he curled his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in a little tighter. He let his head droop toward hers, breathing in the scent of lavender. His head still pounded and his very bones ached, but nothing hurt as much with her slender body fitted against his side. He was glad, though, that the bed was not far.